


At The End Of The Dock

by hips_of_steel



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-06-04 20:18:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15154865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hips_of_steel/pseuds/hips_of_steel
Summary: The evening of a long hot summer's day finds Clark and Adam sitting at the end of a dock, dipping their feet in a cold mountain lake, like they did nearly a century ago.And Clark, resist it as he has all these years, wants to kiss Adam.Maybe he finally will.





	At The End Of The Dock

**Author's Note:**

> All OCs featured in this story belong to me.
> 
> Clark Ashley: Idaho  
> Adam Landes-Bush: Nyo Washington State  
> Ruth Ashley (mentioned): Human, Clark's wife from 1922 to 1931.

Clark doesn't know why he does it (that's a lie, he just refuses to acknowledge why). They're alone, back on that dock they sat on _decades_ ago under the moonlight, naked and dripping from the water in the mountain lake. Today, their feet are just dipped in the water, and their voices and hands have ceased to talk.

They're simply _existing_ next to each other, fingers almost touching but not quite, eyes watching the sunlight begin to fade, brilliant colors starting to be created on the distant horizon they cannot see.

Clark glances at Adam out of the corner of his eyes, seeing the way his eyes stare out over the landscape, brilliant blue reflecting the light in the sky. Red hair, those sharp cheekbones and defiant chin. Adam carries himself with an inner quiet and peace Clark longs for.

Adam has accepted who he is and doesn't hide it when people ask. Clark still feels the need to hide it, to keep it locked away, not let the others know. He still remembers how it was treated decades ago.

_An illness. One he couldn't admit he had._

It's hard to divorce himself from that train of thought, but a quiet thought of his own passes through his mind.

Despite knowing it that whole time, he'd never thought that Adam was mentally ill.

He glanced back out over the lake, wondering how Adam had survived. Had the humans simply ignored him? Had he just avoided anything that might have gotten him persecuted? Clark didn't know. And he didn't want to ask.

No, he simply wanted to act.

It was like lifting a lead weight, merely shifting his hand. A monumental leap into an abyss, one he didn't want to acknowledge.

But then a memory came softly to his head.

_Ruth smiled. She was so weak now. She wasn't going to last much longer, he knew._

_"Be happy with him, Clark. Don't cut yourself off forever. Find someone who makes you happy the way he does. The way I've done."_

Those words whispered to him in 1931 gave him the strength he needed, and he shifted his hand, fingers lifting up from the wood of the dock, and then settling back down over Adam's fingers.

He feels Adam jolt, as almost as if he's coming out of a trance, and slowly he turns his head. Clark continues to look straight ahead, pretending that he hasn't just done anything. If he verbally or even visually acknowledges it in this moment, he'll lose the bravado that's desperately trying to keep him from just sliding into full blown panic.

Adam must see though the way that his shoulders tense, despite not moving his hand, the way that perhaps he's avoiding his gaze a little _too_ well. And Adam, God bless him, turns his gaze back over the lake, letting Clark pretend that he doesn't seen the crimson color slowly gathering on his cheeks.

But that doesn't mean Adam doesn't respond.

His hand slowly turns over so his palm is up, fingers spreading slightly, and Clark takes the invitation, lacing their hands together. Their grip is loose, and Clark feels his courage starting to fade away.

But then Adam tightens their grip and slowly leans over, very slowly, until he brings his head to rest on Clark's shoulder, and Clark takes a deep breath, trying to not yank away or just _throw himself into the lake to escape_.

They stay there like that for a while, and then Clark realizes Adam's second hand is rising up, and then he feels Adam brush his escaping curls back behind his ear. He tries not to shiver at the touch, and Adam pauses, and then he's cupping Clark's face in that hand, turning his head towards him.

Blue eyes meet blue, words spoken without anything being said. He hates to admit it, but he's _scared_ . Scared like he was the first time he realized that he wanted to hold Adam's hand and kiss him. He's gotten this far, and now he's petrified. He can't go any further, but he _needs_ too or else they'll lose this moment, like they've lost so many already.

So Adam straightens slightly, brings himself closer to Clark (it takes every ounce of control left in his panicking body _not_ to roll off the dock and into the lake), and then brings their foreheads together, giving Clark a moment to prepare or stop him.

And instead, Clark tightens his grip on Adam's hand, giving him permission.

And then Adam is bringing their lips together, his free hand sliding up on Clark's jaw, fingers half in his hair, and Clark feels the need to go rigid, but thankfully some sane portion of his brain overrides that urge, and instead he actually presses himself closer to Adam, and then parts his lips slightly.

And in mere moments, his body and what it wants begins to override his brain completely, and like a desperate man, his free hand flies up to the back of Adam's head, holding him there, afraid _he'll_ run away if he doesn't keep him there. Adam deepens the kiss in an instant, and their clasped hands part to pull each other closer, Clark's settling around Adam's neck and shoulders, and Adam's hand resting on his lower back, pulling him closer, and Clark wants to _cry_ . God, he wants to hate himself for wanting this, but he _can't._ Not while Adam's right _here_ , while Adam's touching him and making him forget everything he's ever known except for the word _more_ , the word his body is now singing as loudly as it can, begging him to listen to its single cry of _more_.

He _needs_ Adam, needs him _right now,_ needs him to be _his,_ his and _only_ his. Like water on a wound, Adam is pouring over him, making him whole, and he needs it, he needs it so badly he hasn't even realized.

He’s pulling himself closer now, their upper bodies pressed together, and for a moment, it’s almost perfect.

But then Adam pulls back, and he _almost_ panics. But Adam presses their foreheads together, and gazes at Clark, and it’s a look of something so _deep_ that Clark is overwhelmed, and his voice evaporates in his throat.

But he manages to get something out anyhow. It’s desperate and needy, it almost doesn’t sound like his voice speaking, and he’s half sure it’s accompanied with a whimper.

“Adam…”

Adam smiles, and presses a gentle kiss to his lips again, and then pulls back. He then brings his feet back onto the dock, his hand clasping Clark’s, and then he stands.

Some distant part of Clark’s brain recognizes that making out on the end of a dock is probably _not_ the safest place to be, and he manages to force his legs to work, standing up as well. They collect their socks and shoes and walk back to the cabin, hand in hand, their grip tight.

And then as soon as they’re past the door, Clark drops the shoes in his hand and swings around to wrap himself around Adam, and he nearly cries when Adam’s arms wrap around him as well, their lips coming together once more. He doesn’t realize Adam’s backed him up against the door until his back is pressed against it, and Adam’s _so close_ and he _needs him. Needs him right now, needs to be in his arms, needs to be held tight against him_.

It’s that need that has Clark pull away this time, and manage to find the words. It’s far from elegant, but it gets the point across.

“Bedroom. Hold me.”

Adam nods, and it’s somehow both a short and long walk to the room. But then they’re there, laying on the bed, and he’s in Adam’s arms, and Clark finds himself pressing his head to Adam’s chest, listening to the solid beat of his heart underneath, and he holds himself close, needing this so badly. He’s needed this for _decades_ but now is not the time to reflect on how long he’s denied himself this.

He just needs it _now._

Adam’s hands stroke his hair, and Clark listens to his heartbeat, a quiet hymn as he rests there, feeling the night settle in around them.

That night, for the first time in a long while, they sleep next to each other. Hands clasped, perhaps a leg or arm thrown over the other, and maybe Clark’s head is tucked under Adam’s chin. All Clark knows is that when he wakes up in the morning, Adam’s still there, his breath quiet as he sleeps, his t-shirt reading **_I’m not here to make eye contact_ ** , and Clark can’t help it, he snorts and laughs, and Adam wakes up, blue eyes gazing up at him for a moment, and then a quiet grin coming to his face.

It’s a silly thing, but Clark doesn’t care. In this moment, he’s waking up next to the man he _loves_ . That he has loved for _years_ , not that he’s ever admitted that aloud. And Adam leans over and they’re kissing again.

It’s something he’s needed, something he’s wanted.

And now?

It’s something he _finally_ has.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! If you want to talk more about OCs with me, contact me at hipsofsteel.tumblr.com


End file.
